Chapter 7: Boyd Makes His Move
Boyd Cleary had spent twenty-two years building his reputation in Oak Haven, and he was not prepared to watch it come apart over one traffic stop.
His attorney, Marcus Greel, arrived at the department at ten-thirty and spent forty minutes reviewing the footage in Boyd's office with the door closed.
When he came out, his expression told Boyd most of what he needed to know.
"The dashcam is clean," Greel said.
"Meaning it's clean against you.
Her speed, her lane, her signal — all of it documented and legal."
"I know what's on it."
"Then you know the reasonable cause argument is going to be difficult to sustain." Greel set his folder on the desk.
"The booking room footage is the bigger problem.
Handling the communications device is going to be characterized as interference with federal property.
That's a separate exposure from the civil rights question."
"So what do I do?"
Greel looked at him.
"You cooperate fully with the federal review, you say nothing to the press, and you let me manage the process."
Boyd leaned forward.
"And Toby?"
"Deputy Miller has given a voluntary statement.
You cannot speak to him about its contents.
You cannot approach him about it.
You cannot suggest, directly or indirectly, that his continued employment depends on anything other than his job performance." Greel's voice was flat and precise.
"If you do any of those things, you will turn a federal review into a federal obstruction case.
Do you understand me?"
Boyd understood.
He also understood that Marcus Greel was a careful man who specialized in careful solutions, and that careful solutions took time, and that time was the one thing Boyd felt slipping away from him with every hour that passed.
He waited until Greel left for a lunch meeting.
Then he called Dale Pruitt.
Dale was Darlene's husband, a county road commissioner, and a man who had owed Boyd a favor since 2019 for reasons neither of them ever discussed out loud.
Boyd kept the call short.
"I need to know who's been talking to Gloria Marsh," Boyd said.
"Boyd —"
"I'm not asking you to do anything.
I just need to know."
A pause.
"People are scared of you, Boyd.
That used to work for you.
Right now it's working against you.
Half the people she's talking to are talking because they're scared you'll find out and come after them if they don't get their story in first."
Boyd hadn't considered that.
It landed somewhere uncomfortable.
"The other half," Dale continued, "are talking because they've been waiting a long time to talk."
Boyd ended the call.
He sat in his office and thought about the eleven names Reverend Marsh had collected.
He thought about the dashcam footage and the booking room footage and Toby Miller's legal pad.
He thought about the federal review document still sitting on his desk, crisp and official and patient.
And then he did the thing Marcus Greel had specifically told him not to do.
He drove to Toby Miller's house.
Toby answered the door in a t-shirt and jeans, off-duty, and the look on his face when he saw Boyd standing on his porch was not fear.
It was something quieter and more final than fear.
"Boyd," he said.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I just want to talk."
"My attorney told me —"
"You have an attorney now?" Boyd heard the edge in his own voice and couldn't pull it back.
"Since when do you need an attorney, Toby?"
"Since yesterday," Toby said.
"Since I realized I should have had one seven years ago." He stepped back slightly, not to invite Boyd in — to put distance between them.
"I'm going to ask you to leave.
And I'm going to write down the time and date that you came here."
Boyd stared at him.
"I treated you well.
I gave you this job."
"I know you did." Toby's voice was steady.
"And I'm grateful for the job.
But I'm not grateful enough to lie for you." He looked at Boyd directly.
"Go home.
Call your attorney.
Don't come back here."
He closed the door.
Boyd stood on the porch for a long moment.
A neighbor across the street was watching from her driveway, pretending not to.
May you like
Boyd walked back to his car.
He had just made everything significantly worse, and some part of him already knew it.
